


Your Civic Duty

by orphan_account



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 3
Genre: Drama, Gen, Vault 101
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-14
Updated: 2015-07-14
Packaged: 2018-04-09 06:08:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4336865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In response to Vault 101’s dwindling population, the Overseer institutes a controversial new policy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Your Civic Duty

**Author's Note:**

> Original posted [here](http://falloutkinkmeme.livejournal.com/6099.html?thread=14598099#t14598099) on the Fallout Kink Meme.
> 
> TW for discussion of rape and forced pregnancy.

Class broke for a half-hour lunch period at noon, and with prom and the end of the school year looming, the students were unusually rowdy as they returned to their seats, laughing and shoving, swapping gossip and rehashing inside jokes. Brotch was unamused.

“Alright, settle down, folks. That’s enough.” He cleared his throat and the class quieted slightly, stifling laughter and shushing one another. “I have a special surprise announcement,” he said, adopting a sardonic tone. “Overseer Almodovar has asked to address you all today. I’m sure he has a very good reason for interrupting our end-of-term review session.”

“I won’t take up much of your time, Edwin,” said the Overseer, materializing from the shadows like a vampire in a Pre-War monster flick. The students twisted around in their seats, gaping at him, but only Butch was able to find the words to express their collective response.

“Shit! How long have you been there?”

Almodovar ignored the interruption and walked through the aisles to the front of the classroom and pulled a stack of notecards from his pocket. He cleared his throat and began to read. “Good afternoon, students. I have a brief announcement to make, one I’m sure you won’t find overly disruptive.” He paused and peered around the room, meeting everyone’s eyes in turn. “As I’m sure you’re aware,” he continued, “the Vault’s population has…dwindled in recent years. This is the natural course of things, but we must take certain measures to ensure that we do not fade away entirely.”

“To that end,” he said, “We will be instituting a new program to encourage our young people to think of the future of our beloved Vault.” Amata and the doctor’s kid exchanged a look as if to say ‘is this going where I think it’s going?’ but no one spoke, so Almodovar continued. “In the coming days, you will report to the infirmary for a routing physical and mandatory genetic screening. You will be assigned a partner based on your genetic profile, and—“

“Alphonse, you can’t be serious,” Brotch said, his expression stricken. “These are seventeen-year-olds, for god’s sake!”

The Overseer silenced him with a glare. “You will be assigned a partner based on your genetic profile, and…” He frowned down at his cards. “…And you will be expected to produce a child within three years.”

The room was filled with the brittle silence of a dozen people too stunned to respond.

Almodovar plunged onwards. “Each couple will produce one child by 2220, two by 2222. The partnership will be dissolved after the birth of the second child, at which point, you will be free to marry as you wish. Further pregnancies and births will be incentivized with rewards yet-to-be-determined. That is all. Thank you.”

Almost immediately, the doctor’s kid’s hand shot up. “This is mandatory?” they said without waiting to be called on, their voice taking on a shrill edge. “We have to? We absolutely have to?”

“Procreation is your civic duty,” said the Overseer said, reciting from the Vault strictures. “The prospect may be daunting, but I’m sure you will find that parenting is its own reward.”

“Geez,” Butch said derisively, ineffectually masking his terror with bravado, “No need for the laws. We got a baby shortage, just let the Butchman handle it. Just call me Thundercock McGee, because—”

Susie Mack twisted around in her seat, her face a mask of rage. “This isn’t funny, Butch!” she hissed. “The Overseer’s going to be raping us, and all you can do is make stupid jokes!”

Her words opened the floodgates. Everyone began talking at once, voices rising in near-hysteria. “–he can’t do this! This can’t be legal—“ “—mom was in labor for forty-eight hours—“ “—but we’re steadies! I don’t want to kiss anyone else, you can’t make—“ “—going to get so fat!”

The Overseer rapped his knuckles on the metal desk, effectively cutting off the chatter. “That’s enough. Miss Mack, no one will be forced to have—“ he wrinkled his nose in distaste “—j intercourse. Artificial insemination options will be available. Honestly, I expected you of all people to be excited about the prospect of sanctioned fornication.”

Susie went beet red and slunk down in her seat. Brotch made a strangled sound and said “That’s enough! Alphonse, this is completely inappropriate. These are kids, not your breeding fodder. You can’t make them reproduce, it’s unethical and completely over-the-line!”

Almodovar fixed Brotch with a withering stare. “Edwin, if you had done your duty twenty years ago, these measures wouldn’t be necessary.”

Brotch blanched and said nothing. Everyone knew the rumors about Brotch, everyone said he was flitty, temperamental, light in the loafers. It had never mattered much, Brotch had always kept to himself. Butch and his cronies liked to accuse one another of sucking Brotch off for extra credit, but no one put much stock in rumors, and no one really cared.

“You know what?” said the doctor’s kid, fists clenched on their desk. “Fuck you, Almodovar. We’re not doing it.”

There was a collective intake of air followed by a second stunned silence. It was a word they’d seen scrawled in bathroom stalls or carved in the undersides of desks, never spoken aloud. In third grade, Butch and Wally Mack had looked it up in the dictionary, unable to stifle their laughter, but no one had ever dared say it out loud. No one had ever sworn at an adult, much less cussed out the Overseer.

“What did you say?” Almodovar asked, a vein throbbing in his temple.

The doctor’s kid puffed themselves up to their full height. Ignoring Amata’s whispered plea (“don’t, please don’t, you’ll make this worse for yourself”) they looked the Overseer dead in the eye and said, “Did I stutter?”

Almodovar’s face had gone an alarming shade of purple. “That’s it,” he hissed. “I have had it with you. Let’s see how you like the holding cells.” He walked to the wall and pressed the intercom. “Security!” he barked. “We have a situation in the classroom!”

“Alphonse, be reasonable,” said Brotch placatingly. “Don’t do anything you’re going to regret.”

“I will not,” the Overseer spat, “Have my authority questioned by a teenager. Listen, brat, if it weren’t for your father, you wouldn’t even be here. You don’t belong here, you spoiled, selfish, ungrateful—“

Just then, Officer Gomez arrived, face twisted in confusion. “What’s going on here?”

Almodovar pointed. “Arrest them!”

Amata and Brotch started talking at the same time. “Oh please Officer Gomez they didn’t do anything wrong, it’s all a big misunderstanding, my dad just lost his temper, nothing happened, I promise—” “Herman, talk some sense into him, he’s completely lost his mind—”

“Enough!” roared Almodovar. “Officer Gomez, you will take this insubordinate child into custody, or I’ll cut your family’s rations in half! I mean it!”

Startled, Officer Gomez did as he was told. When the doctor’s kid resisted, he said “Come on, kid,” quietly. “You don’t want to get in any more trouble today.” After a moment’s hesitation, they bowed their head and went quietly, hands cuffed behind their back. Gomez lead them out of the room, restoring the uneasy quiet.

“Does anyone else have any questions?” the Overseer snapped. No hands went up and he said, “Good. Your testing schedules will be posting outside the classroom tomorrow evening. That is all. Good day.” He stalked out of the room, angrier than Amata had ever seen him.

Everyone sat perfectly still, mute with horror. After a full thirty seconds, Brotch said, “I’m sure he won’t enforce it. There’s no way. There’s just no way.” The students looked up at him, eyes wide, and he glanced at the clock. “Y’know what?” he said weakly, “class dismissed. We’re not getting anything done today. Go home. Tell your parents what the Overseer told you. If enough people object…” He trailed off hopefully, and they filed out of the room, uncharacteristically silent.


End file.
